A Brand New Day
by Hana Noir
Summary: Fatal Fury fanfic. A photojournalist is on a hunt to interview Terry Bogard. WIll she succeed?


"Rhyssa Bannon, intrepid photojournalist

(Author's Note: Okay, I've had this one lying around for a while now, so I thought I'd put the first part out and see what kind of response it gets. If it gets reviews, I'll keep working on it!)

A Brand New Day

Part One

A Fatal fury fanfic by Hana Noir

"Rhyssa Bannon, intrepid photojournalist." The young woman pulled a face at the mirror, grinning at her own silliness. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find, interview and photograph reclusive martial artist Terry Bogard." She rolled her eyes and opened the camera bag sitting on the bed. A long lock of ginger hair fell into her face and she absently brushed it aside. "Okay, check just one more time. Camera, check. Film, check. Flashes, check. Cell phone, check. Money.... Damn, almost forgot!" She opened a canister on her bureau, sending a cloud of overpowering floral powder into the air. Sneezing, she dug under the puff and drew out a small ziploc bag. 

"Don't think I'd've gotten too far without this," she said wryly, opening the bag and withdrawing the bills within. She put half into her wallet and tucked the other half securely into the hidden pocket in her heavy boots. A short black leather jacket was tossed on and zipped up.

"All ready!" she declared, grabbing the camera bag and slinging the strap over her chest. She strode out of the bedroom, snatching her helmet off the peg next to the door and slamming the apartment door firmly behind her. 

Rhyssa revved the motorcycle's engine as she left the underground parking garage, enjoying the feel of the cool autumn air in her face. The sun was setting, but the glare on the pavement was bright enough to make her put on her mirrored sunglasses. 

As she sped toward the sports arena, she went over her strategy in her head. Tonight, Joe Higashi had a match scheduled against Pedro Lopez, Spain's national kickboxing champion. All she had to do was find a way to get into the victory party afterward and finagle an introduction to Higashi. He was a good friend of both Terry and Andy Bogard. She was sure to be able to find out something from him. 

"Wow...." she said, surprised by the huge crowd waiting out of the coliseum. Maybe she should have bought a ticket in advance. She finally found an available parking space four blocks away. She paid the attendant and drove to the assigned space. Her cell phone shrieked at her as she opened the saddlebag to retrieve her gear. 

"Bannon speaking."

"Oh, thank God, finally!" Rhyssa grinned; she recognized the frantic voice right away. 

"Hiya, Eddie. What's up?" She was sure it was good. Eddie Segawa was an experienced journalist who only panicked when the situation was really bad. She started walking for the entrance to the garage.

"I need you. Now."

"Wow, man, I never knew you cared," she couldn't resist teasing him a little. 

"It's not funny, Rhys. Dan called me ten minutes ago. His kid just fell out of a tree and broke his arm. I need a good photographer for the Higashi match. I have an exclusive interview with him after the fight, and I GOTTA have pictures!" Oh, this is just TOO good! Rhyssa thought jubilantly. Fate must be smiling. She couldn't conceal the gloating smile stretching her lips. Her pace picked up.

"Well, I dunno--"

"Look, Rhys, my whole career is on the line here!" Eddie barked frantically. "I have a family to consider! The boss said to tell you he'll have a check for seven hundred bucks waiting for you at the office tomorrow, if you'll do it."

She couldn't take it any more. Besides, the money was more than she could pass up, AND she could get into the match for free as a member of the press. "Hey, can I get a word in? Okay, I'll do it. Where do you want me to meet you?" 

Relief colored the voice on the other end. "At the south entrance of the stadium. You'll see all the press gathered there. How long will you be?"

"I'm only about three blocks away. I'll be there in a few minutes. Watch for me." She slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and increased her pace to a jog. Seven hundred dollars, free admission to the match and the party afterward, a legit reason to take pictures, not to mention a chance to meet Higashi; it couldn't have been any better if she had planned it. 

As she neared the south entrance she noticed all the various members of the press hanging about. Bright lights and video equipment dominated the scene. Rhyssa snorted as she recognized several people. She did not have very high opinions of some of her colleagues. 

"Rhys! Over here!" She turned to see Eddie running toward her. He shook his head as he got a good look at her. "Why do you always look like you've just left the local chapter of Hell's Angels? Here." He thrust a plastic coated square at her. She only smiled as she clipped the press badge onto the collar of her jacket. If he didn't like her jacket, he'd really hate the t-shirt under it. 

"Rhyssa? Rhyssa Bannon?" The soft, cultured female voice made her skin crawl. She turned to find Avon Summers standing behind her. "I thought that was you!" Her laughter trilled out pleasantly, causing several people to turn and look. 

"Hello, Avon," Rhyssa said civilly, determined not to let the willowy blond news anchor get to her. "It's been a while." But not long enough, she thought.

"Yes, it has, hasn't it?" She tapped a perfectly manicured pink fingernail against her matching lips. Rhyssa hid her distaste. "I see you're as...casual...as ever."

"It's comfortable," Rhyssa said blandly, flicking her eyes over the pink skirt and jacket the other woman was wearing. Just the thought of having to wear something that ugly made her skin crawl. And who picked the color??

"Well, I'm sure you ladies must have so much to catch up on," Rhyssa started to open her mouth to protest, but Eddie quickly continued. "But I'm afraid I need Rhyssa's help inside. You see," and his voice dropped into a confiding tone. "I have an interview with Higashi and I would hate to keep him waiting." He grasped Rhyssa's arm and pulled her away, leaving the svelte news anchor with her mouth hanging open. 

Once they were out of sight, Rhyssa burst into laughter, leaning heavily against her friend. "Thanks for the rescue, Eddie. I owe you one," she grinned. 

"De nada," Eddie shrugged. "Just deduct it from the four I owe you." 

"I thought you said your interview with Higashi was after the match?" she asked pointedly. 

"It is." Eddie smiled innocently. "I just thought I'd get you away from Miss Sweetness And Light before you went into sugar shock and did something I'd have to bail you out of. Besides, I want to get good seats in the press section." 

"I just love the way your twisted mind works, Ed," Rhyssa said wryly. "And I bet it was a sop to your ego to let Little Miss I-work-for-television-and-YOU-don't chew on the news that you got an interview with Higashi." She shook her head and smiled, tossing her long, dark red braid over her shoulder. Eddie merely looked inscrutable and led her to the seats reserved for members of the press. 

"Where can you get the best shots?" he asked, scanning the available seats. Rhyssa pursed her lips and studied the layout of the arena. She walked into the seats, stopping to check angles and lighting. 

"Here," she finally said. "I can get shots of both fighters and the entire ring from here." The seats she had selected were toward the back of the press section, but Rhyssa knew that from here, she wouldn't have to contend with the other photographers for shots. She and Eddie settled in, watching the spectators filing in and finding their seats. An excited buzz filled the air, punctuated with the occasional shouted comment. 

Rhyssa let her gaze wander over the faces beginning to fill the building, noticing that the temperature was rising, making the room warmer. She hid her distaste at being crammed in with so many people by surveying the crowd. Her attention was caught by a handsome couple sitting ringside. He was a tall silver-blond with a controlled face, a contrast to the pretty, open features of the girl sitting next to him. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear and she nodded, pointing to something across the way. Rhyssa looked, but didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Then Eddie was tugging on her arm, drawing her attention back to the ring. It was almost time for the match to begin.

The lights began to dim, and the noise of the crowd began to taper off, to be replaced with an expectant quiet. Rhyssa made sure her camera was ready, ignoring the voice of the M.C. when he came out. He started to list each fighter's string of victories and various titles. When he finished, lights went off overhead, flickering on and off in a dizzying pattern before coming to rest on the doors that the fighters would emerge from. Rhyssa half-stood, raising her camera and focusing on the entrance that Higashi would come out of. 

He burst out of the doors with his characteristic exuberance, flipping the victory sign with both hands. The crowd went wild, cheering madly, rising as one to their feet. Rhyssa started snapping pictures. A small boy, no more than four or five, stood near the aisle, waving a sign that read "Higashi, #1!! Joe stopped and knelt down, extending a hand to the child. The boy's face shone as Higashi shook his tiny hand. The fighter reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a headband identical to his own, and tied it around the child's head. Beaming, the little boy gave him a tight hug, wrapping both arms around his neck and squeezing with all his strength. Higashi stood, holding the boy carefully and encouraged him to wave at the crowd. The child did so shyly, grinning widely when they cheered. He stooped and sent the child back to his surprised parents, tossing a salute to them. 

"Rhys, did you get all that??" Eddie shrieked in her ear. She ignored him and continued shooting. Higashi vaulted the ropes and landed lightly in the center of the ring. He strutted around the ring possessively, waving to his fans. When he had retired to his corner, the lights danced around the arena and settled on the other door. 

Lopez strode out, a huge, dark man, almost twice as large as Higashi. The crowd cheered politely, but it was nothing compared to the reception that they had given Higashi. The Spaniard strode down the aisle, looking neither right or left, and climbed into the ring. Rhyssa snapped several pictures of the thick nosed fighter, finishing off the roll. 

She rewound it quickly, dropping it into a case and packing it into her camera bag. She reloaded her camera while the referee read the rules, or the "riot act" as she liked to call it. She had her camera ready when he finished, waiting for him to start the fight. 

He stepped back, nodding to the timekeeper seated below. The bell dinged. Lopez hurled out of his corner with a bull-like bellow, fist drawn back. Higashi easily avoided him, gliding aside. He turned, grinning cockily, slapping away his opponent's blows. Lopez could tell that Higashi was toying with him, and he began to lose his temper. Infuriated, the Spaniard let fly a powerful roundhouse kick. Higashi ducked under the other man's leg and belted him in the stomach. Lopez's mouth fell open and he toppled almost gracefully to the floor, unable to catch his breath. The referee scrambled over and started his count. Then it was all over. The bell rang twice and the referee held up Higashi's arm, declaring him the winner. 

Higashi climbed the ropes, shouting triumphantly. The crowd roared, surging to their feet, and swarming toward the ring. Eddie held tightly to Rhyssa's arm, making sure that they would not be separated. She continued to snap pictures of the incipient riot, catching several shots of the security guards and regular police dragging people out. 

"C'mon, Rhys. We gotta try to get outta here," Eddie said loudly. Rhyssa nodded, rather than shout back, and carefully packed away her camera equipment. She looped the strap securely across her chest and followed Eddie out into the aisle. Immediately she was jostled and buffeted by the people trying to push down to the ring. She pushed against the flow of bodies, trying to reach the door, where the security guards had formed a line to hold people back. The guards were there to keep the regular spectators out, but they would let the members of the press through. 

They were almost there when Rhyssa stumbled and crashed into someone. She started to turn to make a hasty apology when the burly man gave her a rude shove. "Watch where ya goin', ya dumb broad," he growled. Rhyssa's green eyes narrowed dangerously. 

"What'd you say, you big goon?" she shouted back. Startled, the man turned to face her.

"You gotta problem, girlie?" He faced her belligerently, hands on his hips. 

"Yeah," Rhyssa sneered. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a rude sack of shit?" She stared at him disdainfully, almost daring him to try something. 

Eddie turned when he realized that she was no longer behind him, and paled when he saw her confronting the large man. He recognized the guy; he was Ron "Crusher" Callahan, a fighter known for his quick temper. 

"Bitch!" He moved to stand over her, using his formidable size to overwhelm. "Woman or not, I don't take that from anybody!"

Rhyssa sighed, looking up at him with an attitude of extreme indifference. "I hope you don't think that you're intimidating me," she said blandly. "'Cause it's not working, buddy." A fierce growl rolled over her and he drew back to swing. She danced backward, hands coming up in a defensive position. 

"Rhyssa, what are you doing??" Eddie wailed. She spared a quick glance and tossed her camera bag to him. 

"Won't be but a second," she said, still watching the other man. When he saw that her full attention wasn't on him, he charged with a loud yell. Rhyssa slipped to the side, avoiding his fists. She stuck out her foot and tripped him. Callahan stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. 

She waited, sure that he was going to try something dirty. Sure enough, he whipped out a switchblade, holding it lightly in his left hand. Eyes narrowed, she watched him, certain that he would try a switch. "C'mon, sister, let's see how good you're gonna look when I get through with you," he boasted, waving the blade to make it reflect the overhead lights. 

Rhyssa stayed calm, breathing easily, ignoring his taunts. She was a veteran of too many down and dirty street fights to be taken in by such obvious tactics. Her opponent hung back, trying to push her into making the first move. He finally tired of waiting, and rushed her, knife extended. 

She dodged his blade easily, coming up inside his reach and belting him in the stomach, sliding away before he could react. She swayed slightly as he straightened up, glaring at her with his watery eyes. He tracked her, trying to anticipate her next move. Puzzlement escaped his facial control as he watched her. He couldn't read her moves; she was constantly in motion, making him slightly dizzy as he watched her. 

Finally, he couldn't stand any more. He sucked air into his lungs and firmed his stance. Rhyssa knew what was coming; she was able to read his moves. Callahan's arms pointed straight at her and a faint light began to glow. 

"Thundercracker!!!" The energy ball shot out toward her. Rhyssa leapt straight up into the air and flipped, coming fists first at the larger man. 

"Lion Claw!" Her built up ki energy raked three parallel gashes down the front of his body. The large man's eyes bugged out as he fell, almost gracefully, to the floor. Rhyssa jumped back to avoid him and bumped into someone else. A strong hand gripped her shoulder, and she whirled, ready to attack. She figured it to be a friend of her opponent; experience had taught her that assholes usually traveled in groups. 

"Whoa, easy there, Tiger. I don't want to fight," the amused voice and casual stance gave her pause. Rhyssa relaxed her stance and got a good look at the man next to her. He seemed familiar somehow, but at the moment she was too tired to concentrate on the puzzle before her. 

"Rhys! Are you okay?" Eddie appeared at her side, jabbering nervously. "Man, that was some fight. I had no idea you could fight at all!" Despite her fatigue, she was able to grin at the reporter. 

"You never asked me, Eddie." She took her camera bag back from him and strode toward the double doors. "Hey, this isn't gonna be one of those prissy victory celebration with everyone in suits, is it?" 

"I dunno. Why?" Eddie asked her, curious. 

Rhyssa grimaced, wrinkling her nose with distaste. " 'Cause I hate stuffy parties. Besides, you can't get any real food at those do's, and I am now absolutely starving." 

Eddie guided her past the guards and down the hall. "Worry about your gut later, Rhys. I gotta get in to interview Higashi before he forgets his promise. Hurry up!" 

Minutes later, they were ushered into the locker room and the main staff cleared out. Higashi was sitting on a massage table, wearing his usual cocky grin as he untaped his wrists and ankles. He looked up as the two entered. 

"Hey, hey, Eddie!" he exclaimed jubilantly, "long time, no see! How ya been?" He reached out to shake the reporter's hand, then he settled back and took a good long look at Rhyssa. She ignored the scrutiny; she was used to such things by now. "Well, Eddie, you going to introduce me to your pretty friend?" 

Eddie shook his head wryly, evidently used to Higashi's mannerisms. "Joe, this is Rhyssa Bannon, freelance photojournalist. She's one of the best photographers I've ever worked with." 

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Higashi," Rhyssa said politely, extending her hand. To her surprise, he pressed a courtly kiss to the back of her hand. She resisted the urge to belt him one. He could probably mop the locker room with her anyway. She began to get out her camera equipment as Eddie pulled out a minicassette recorder from his pocket. He sat it down on the bench where it could pick up every syllable of the conversation, took a small notebook and a pen out of another pocket, and began to ask his questions. Rhyssa snapped shot after shot as Eddie and Joe conversed. All too soon a man poked his head in to tell them that the victory reception was ready and a limo was waiting outside. 

"How about the two of you ride with me?" Joe asked, tying the sash on his ceremonial kimono. "Plenty of room in the limo. What d'you say?" Rhyssa was torn between professional duty and personal feelings. She knew Eddie would want to ride in the limo, but she was loathe to leave her bike in that parking garage. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when someone walked in. 

"Terry!" Joe shouted, rushing over to clap his friend on the shoulder. Rhyssa froze, unable to believe that the object of her search was here. She turned slowly to find herself face to face with the young man she had stumbled into after her fight. 

"Hey, Joe. Is this a bad time?" he asked softly, nodding at Eddie and Rhyssa. 

"Pssst, Eddie, pick your jaw up," Rhyssa whispered to her awed friend. 

"Nah, come and meet the media, Terry. This's Eddie Segawa, reporter for International Martial Artists Monthly, and Rhyssa Bannon, freelance photojournalist. Eddie, Rhyssa, Terry Bogard. We were just about to leave for the reception. Wanna ride in the limo with us?" Rhyssa saw the fleeting look of discomfort cross his face, and an idea began to form. 

"I appreciate your generous offer, Mr. Higashi, but my bike is parked a few blocks from here and I'm really worried about leaving it. I could follow you to the reception, if you don't mind," Rhyssa said, letting a shade of worry tint her voice. 

"Well, I'd hate for anything to happen to your bike, Rhyssa. I don't mind. We can drop you off where you parked it and you can follow us from there," Joe said, smiling. Rhyssa gave him a dazzling smile in return and started to pack up her camera gear.

Once in the limo, Joe and Eddie got embroiled in a hated debate on the merits of various boxing champions, past and present. Rhyssa used the pretext of examining one of her lenses to get a better look at Terry Bogard. He sat with his head propped on his hand, staring morosely out the window. 

He looks like a man who has lost a lot, she thought, running through some of the stories she had heard about him from various street fighters. He's not the type of person who opens up easily, she decided, but he could probably be the best friend a person could ask for. 

The slowing of the limo interrupted her musings and she packed the lens back in the bag. She had the door open before the wheels had even stopped and was out onto the sidewalk. To her surprise, Terry followed her. He leaned back inside to say something to Joe, then closed the door and stepped back. 

"Problem?" Rhyssa asked, arching one eyebrow in question. Terry stretched until she could hear his joints popping, then stared at her solemnly. 

"I don't like to ride in cars," he admitted. Rhyssa was unable to conceal her grin. She waved for him to join her as she went to find her bike. 

"I prefer motorcycles myself," she said conversationally. "More freedom of movement."

Terry eyed her with something akin to amazement. "Exactly." She chuckled at his expression. 

"Tell me, how formal is this reception?" she asked as she unlocked the saddlebags on her bike and began to secure her camera gear. She secured her long ginger hair in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and tugged on her helmet, buckling the chin strap. She swung onto the seat and waited.

"Suits and ties, I guess," Terry replied with distaste. "Why? Are you going to change into something dressier?"

Rhyssa stared at him in utter disbelief, then laughed. "Baby, this is as dressy as this mother's daughter gets. If they don't like it they can kiss my --" Her last word was drowned out as she stomped down on the kickstart. The roar of the engine was amplified by the echo. Terry was unable to stifle his laughter. 

"Hop on," Rhyssa shouted over the purr of the engine. "I'll give you a ride to the reception." She lowered the visor on the helmet as Terry settled behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist lightly. She walked the bike out of the parking space and tore out of the garage so fast that skid marks were left on the pavement. 

She grinned as she accelerated out onto the street and shot past the limo. The long black car pulled out behind them but lost ground to the faster, lighter, more maneuverable vehicle. Rhyssa felt rather than heard Terry's deep chuckle as they headed for the hotel and the reception. 

"Nice bike!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him over the roar of the wind. She nodded in acknowledgment and passed a slow truck. Before too long, they arrived at the hotel. The valet approached, only to be frightened away by Rhyssa's expression. She parked the bike herself, walking back to the main entrance. 

Terry was leaning against the wall, waiting. He gave her a charming smile as she approached. "The limo still hasn't arrived," he said, joining her. 

"That's okay," she replied. "I'd like to get some shots of Joe entering the reception." She settled the camera bag's strap firmly on her shoulder and walked into the plush lobby. All of the people there were dressed to the nines, with long flowing dresses seeming to be the attire of choice for the women. Several well dressed patrons looked down their noses at them as they headed for the banquet hall. 

Rhyssa only laughed. "They're just jealous," she said softly, "we're comfortable and they're not." Terry was unable to suppress a chuckle as they entered the door. A well dressed man quickly intercepted them, pointing to a discreet sign that read "Invitation Only". Terry shook his head in disgust and produced a small card from his pocket. The man's demeanor changed immediately and he even asked Rhyssa if he could take her jacket. 

She actually thought about it for several seconds, then shook her head. Once he had left, Terry leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You're awfully careful about not removing your jacket. What's under there?" 

Rhyssa burst into laughter before she could catch herself. Terry joined her several seconds later. "Okay, okay," he chuckled, "it was leading. But that's not how I meant it." 

"Well, since you asked nicely," Rhyssa said, still smiling. She unzipped the jacket and held it open so that he could read the front of her shirt. In bright blue print was written, "I'm not _A_ bitch, I'm _THE_ bitch and that's _MS._ Bitch to you!" Terry's shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his laughter. Rhyssa zipped her jacket back up and readied her camera. She could hear noise in the lobby that could only be Higashi arriving.

She readied her camera and waited, catching several good shots as the guest of honor strode in, waving to the assembled people. Eddie was smiling like the cat that ate the canary, so Rhyssa knew that he had gotten some good material while in the limo. 

Terry wandered over with a plate loaded down with tidbits selected from the appetizer table and extended it to her. She wrinkled her nose at the bite sized finger foods. "I guess it was to much to hope for ribs, huh?" She picked at the tiny hor d'ouvers, not really thrilled by the neuvelle cuisine. A waiter came around with a tray loaded down with champagne glasses and extended it toward them. Rhyssa shook her head, smiling politely. Terry accepted a glass, sipped once, then put it down. 

"Don't care for the ritzy stuff huh?" she asked. He shook his head and leaned back against one of the support columns dotting the hall. "Me, neither. I wasn't raised to appreciate 'the finer things in life'," she said, her voice imitating several of the high society women present. Terry smiled, then straightened as he caught sight of someone he recognized. Rhyssa looked out of curiosity and saw the young couple that she had noticed ringside at the match. 

Terry waved and strode over to clap the other man on the back, then bestowed a shy hug on the woman. "Hey, Terry, it's been a while. You need to visit more often," the man said. Rhyssa figured by their resemblance that he was Terry's younger brother, Andy Bogard. The redhead at his side could only be Mai Shiranui. 

"Yes," she chimed in. "We've started to work on preparations for the wedding and I think Andy's in over his head." She laughed delightedly at the terrified look on her fiancé's face. 

"I never knew it was so much work," he admitted. "I thought it would all be easy once I worked up the nerve to propose." 

Mai leaned over to Terry and whispered, " I offered to make it easy on him. I thought we should just skip the entire wedding thing and move in together, but he had to be old-fashioned about it." 

"Hey!" Andy protested, "All this was your idea!" Mai and Terry burst into laughter at the dismay on his face. 

"But seriously, Terry, I'm glad to see you," Andy cleared his throat, all this emotional stuff getting to him. "I wanted to ask you to be one of my groomsmen. Joe's already agreed." He leaned closer to his brother. "Just between you and me, Joe's started making plans for a bachelor party and I was hoping you would rescue me from his idea of a good time." Suddenly, both of them were slapped on the back and Joe appeared, draping an arm around Mai.

"Hey, hey, what's up? I thought I heard my name?" he asked cheerily. 

"Speak of the devil," Terry said, grinning. "C'mon, Joe, where's the real food? That stuff on the table just isn't enough for a real man's appetite." 

"I was wondering where you had disappeared to." Rhyssa jumped as Eddie came up behind her. She turned and gave him a sheepish grin. He moved to stand next to her, glancing curiously at the small group she had been watching. "Hey, isn't that Andy Bogart and Mai Shiranui? I wonder if I could get them to comment on the match?" he muttered, moving in that direction. Rhyssa shook her head wryly and followed him. 

Joe noticed them as they approached. "Eddie, Rhyssa, why don't you join us?" The two reporters smiled and nodded. 

Andy and Mai peered at Rhyssa with great interest. "You're the one who KO'd Ron Callahan, aren't you?" Mai asked. "We didn't get to see it, but we heard about it. Way to go. Did you see it, Terry?"

"I had a ringside seat, so to say," Terry said, grinning. "She laid him out in no time flat." 

Rhyssa grinned and ducked her head. "I didn't really want to fight, but he pushed for it. Besides, there ain't no way, I'm gonna let anybody treat me like that." A strange look passed over her face and she quickly changed the subject. "I heard what you were discussing, though, congratulation to the both of you." 

Andy actually blushed and Mai smiled proudly. "After all I went through to get him, I think I should have him stuffed and mounted on the wall, rather than marry him."

Andy gave Mai a hurt look as the others all laughed at the thought. Mai leaned closer to Rhyssa and whispered, "Just between us girls, though, he's worth it all." Rhyssa shook her head, grinning as Mai latched onto Andy's arm. "Right, honey?" she said loudly.

Andy looked at her blankly. "Huh?" Mai laughed and bestowed a fast kiss on his cheek. Eddie smiled fondly, remembering his own days as a soon-to-be newlywed. 

"Thinking about Sumire?" Rhyssa asked. Eddie grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah. I think I'll stop and buy some flowers on my way home," he admitted. Rhyssa smiled slightly. She liked Eddie's wife. 

Over in the corner, a small band started performing classical pieces, and several of the well dressed couples took to the cordoned off area reserved for dancing . Rhyssa wrinkled her nose as she noticed Mark Tyler headed their way. Tyler was an up-and-coming American fighter and she had encountered him before. He was the biggest chauvinist it had ever been her misfortune to meet. To make things worse, he also thought he was God's gift to women, and for some reason he had decided to chase after her. Rhyssa moved a little closer to Eddie and prayed that he wouldn't notice her. 

"Higashi, that was a hell of a match. Congratulations," he said as he approached, reaching out to shake the champion's hand. Joe eyed him distastefully and briefly shook his hand. Tyler looked over the small group, lingering over Mai. The young woman bristled at the insulting head-to-toe once-over he gave her. Andy put his arm around her shoulders and gave the other man a warning glare. 

Tyler's smile widened when he noticed Rhyssa. "Hello, Rhyssa. It's been too long." He gave her a charming smile and reached for her hand. 

She ducked behind Eddie, avoiding his hand. "Not nearly," she said sweetly, her answering smile dripping with sarcasm. As usual he ignored her response and pressed forward. 

"I've been meaning to call you," he said blithely, moving closer to her. "You forgot to give me your number." He flashed that insincere smile again and ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

She deftly avoided his attempt to catch her hand and took several steps back. "Actually, my phone's out of order. Too bad," she said, shrugging. 

He followed her relentlessly. "That's not a problem, beautiful. I'll stop by your place later." His hand shot out, managing to snare her wrist. Rhyssa was startled by the speed with which he moved. 

"You have less than a second to let go of me," she said softly, her voice filled with menace. He actually laughed and pulled her closer. 

"Or what?" 

Rhyssa was so angry she couldn't see straight for a second. Instinct took over and her hands clenched into tight fists. Faster than the eye could follow, she snapped her arm out, aiming for his face. A hand caught her only centimeters from her target. Astonished, she stared at the hand around her wrist, then at its owner. Terry held her easily, but quickly released her when she stiffened. 

"You don't need to do this, Rhyssa," he said, interposing himself between her and Tyler. She continued to stare at him, shocked that he had intervened. Tyler frowned and moved to face the slim young man. 

"This is none of your business, mister," he spat out. "But before I kick your ass, I want to know your name." 

"Terry Bogard." Tyler's eyes widened at the admission, then narrowed with satisfaction. 

"Well, well," he drawled, "I've heard a lot about you, but I never thought I'd have the pleasure of beating you so soon." Rhyssa snorted. That jackass had about as much of a chance of beating Terry as a five year old did. She had seen him fight; he was overconfident and too full of himself to pose a serious threat to a fighter like Bogard. 

Terry held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not looking for a fight. Just leave the lady alone and we'll forget about all this." 

Tyler jerked off his dinner jacket and threw it to the floor. "Tough, Bogard, looks like you found one anyway." He turned a smug face toward Rhyssa. "As soon as I take care of this, we'll go have a little fun, baby." He then turned his attention back to Terry.

"What a jerk!" Rhyssa exclaimed, furious. 

"No kidding," Mai said coming to stand next to her. "That Tyler needs a good beating."

"I meant Terry," Rhyssa ground out. Mai was astonished by her anger. "I can handle myself. I don't need anyone to ride to my rescue." She started toward them only to have Eddie catch her. "Let me go. Now." Taken aback by her cold voice, he did as he was told. 

Tyler had squared off against Terry and was waiting for him to move. After several minutes, he tired of waiting and charged. Terry held his ground and waited. Tyler was almost on him when he let out a high pitched shriek and fell to the ground, twitching. 

Confused, Terry looked up to find Rhyssa standing next to Tyler's fallen body. She rolled him over and knelt down. "Hello, hotshot," she said conversationally. "See this?" She held a small black object in front of his wide eyes. "This is a tazer. Remember it. If you ever come near me again, I'll give you another taste. On a higher setting." Terry couldn't hide his amazement as she stood and faced him. "And you," she said, stopping just short of his toes. "I can take care of my own fights. I don't need help from anyone. Got it?" 

Terry nodded, carefully concealing his mirth. "Yes, ma'am." 

"Good." she whirled and faced the staring crowd. "I'm leaving," she announced. She found Eddie among the press of bodies. "I'll have your pictures ready tomorrow afternoon. Swing by and pick them up." Head held high, she strode for the door, people quickly moving aside for her. 

Terry stood frozen for several more seconds, then bolted after her. "Hey, Rhyssa wait up!" She stopped and turned, giving him a cold stare. 

"Yes?" The chill in her voice could have frozen a refrigerator. Terry stopped several feet away from her. 

"I wanted to apologize," he said, fidgeting as he spoke. "I didn't mean to insult you or anything. I just don't like to see anyone being that rude to a lady."

She actually laughed. "Terry, being a lady is one thing I've never been accused of." She looked at him curiously. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a serious white knight complex? Not every woman needs a man to rush to her aid, you know."

A strange, almost sad smile curved his lips. "Old habits die hard, I guess," he said with a shrug. She felt strangely sorry for him and decided to relent. 

"Tell you what," she said. "I know a place that serves the best ribs in town. What's say we go there and I'll enlighten you on the mind of the modern woman." 

Terry looked up and smiled at her oblique apology. "You're on." They were almost at the door when he paused and looked over at her. "I think I should warn you, though, I can put away an indecent amount of ribs." She laughed and took his arm, guiding him to where she had parked.

"What a strange coincidence," she replied. "So can I." She started her bike with a roar and peeled out of the parking lot. 

Two hours and many plates of ribs later, Terry and Rhyssa were laughing together over a humorous story he had related about his early days as a fighter. He eyed her with open curiosity. "So, tell me, where did you learn to fight? You're really good." 

Rhyssa licked bar-b-que sauce from her lips and considered. "Trial and error, mostly. I hung around a gym when I was little and I picked up stuff here and there." She smiled wryly. "There was this one guy, his name was Jason Lee. Chinese-American, fresh off the boat, y'know. Didn't speak much English, but he was determined to make a name for himself as a fighter. I was about five years old when I met him." She looked at Terry and shook her head. "I was a weedy little kid, used to get the crap beat out of me on a daily basis. I would hang around the gym because I knew none of the other kids would come in there after me. The old guy who owned the place, Kirk Fitzpatrick, was great. Used to tell me stories about his days as a fighter. Anyway, he let me carry towels and fill up water bottles. Jason decided that all I needed was some self-defense training and I could make it from school to my house without getting beat up. I learned fast. The first day I came in without a shiner, Jason and Fitz took me out for a burger. I thought I was hot stuff." She shook her head again and took a sip of her soda. 

Terry smiled, imagining her as a gangly little girl with pigtails and freckles. "What about your family?" he asked, still curious.

Her face froze over and she looked past him. "I don't talk about my family. Ever." 

Terry quickly changed the subject. "Sorry. You know, there's only one thing that would make these ribs even better. Some beer to wash it all down with." 

Rhyssa signaled the waitress and ordered two of the house tap specials. She saluted him with the frosted mug and took a deep swallow. 

"This is good stuff," Terry said, draining the mug. Rhyssa eyed him cautiously, if he continued to drink like that there might be a problem. 

"If you think this is good, you should try the stuff I've got at home," she said lightly. "A friend sends a case over to me once a month. I don't like to drink by myself, so it tends to pile up. Wanna give it a try?" She wiggled her eyebrows comically at him. He snorted, trying not to blow beer out of his nose. He then choked and was reduced to nodding. Grinning, she grabbed the check and headed for the counter. Terry made a quick detour to the men's room and met her outside at her bike. 

They sped down the freeway at dangerous speeds, weaving around other vehicles until Rhyssa spotted the off ramp that lead to her section of town. She drove slower when they neared the block containing her apartment complex. This was a residential area and people were trying to sleep. She tried to be respectful of her neighbors. 

She pulled into the underground garage, tossing a salute at the night watchman, Morty. He stared at her a bit oddly as she locked her bike up and headed for the elevators.

"What was that about?" Terry asked, leaning against the wall as she pushed the button for the seventh floor.

"Huh?" Rhyssa blinked, trying to figure out what he was referring to.

Terry nodded his head at the door. "The watchman."

"Morty?" Rhyssa considered for a second, then chuckled. "Ah, I see. I've never brought anyone home with me before. He's probably scandalized." The elevator jerked, then began to rise smoothly up the shaft.   
Terry gave her a strange look of his own. "You are, without a doubt, the most different woman I've ever met."

She blinked. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. 

Rhyssa flipped on the light as she opened the door, illuminating the living room/kitchen nook. The apartment wasn't that big, but it had a large balcony that made up for any other shortcomings. Terry nodded approvingly at the view, moving to the sliding glass door to look out over the cityscape. Rhyssa made sure that the door had locked before disappearing down the side hallway to put away her equipment. 

"Beer's in the fridge," she called back. "And there's chips and stuff in the pantry. Help yourself." 

Terry entered the tiny kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The bottom shelf was nothing but beer cans. There was a half empty gallon of milk on the top shelf, a few covered containers, and something in a saucer that looked like it belonged in a 1950's sci-fi movie. Other than that, it was bare inside. Terry pulled out two of the cans and sat them on the counter, then began opening cabinets in a search for glasses. He found two heavy glass beer mugs on an upper shelf. Everything else was plastic cups, mostly from fast food places. He shook his head as he filled the two mugs then carried them out onto the balcony. He settled down in one of the padded metal chairs, placing their drinks on the round, glass topped table next to his elbow. 

Rhyssa came back into the living room and looked around for Terry. For one weird second, she thought she had imagined his even being there, then a cool breeze from the open balcony doors alerted her to his presence. 

She padded, barefoot, out onto the balcony. "Nice view," Terry said, gesturing with his mug. She settled into the other chair and propped her bare feet up on the heavy iron railing. There was another mug on the table and she picked it up and sipped, her tongue absently sweeping the foam off of her upper lip. 

"This is pretty good stuff," Terry tipped the beer mug in a kind of salute. 

"Help yourself," Rhyssa said with a shrug. "I don't drink all that much of it and it's a shame for it to sit in the bottom of the fridge and go to waste." She took another sip and wondered about how she was going to bring up the subject of an interview. She was seized by a compulsion to be as honest as possible with Terry. She found that she liked him, oddly enough. And he seemed like the kind of person she would like to have as a friend. 

"So, Terry," she said, trying to start a conversation. "What do you do with your time? I mean, I haven't seen you in any tournaments lately. I try to keep up with what's going on on the circuit."

Terry smiled slightly, swirling the last bit of beer in the bottom of his mug. "I don't really like to fight for money. I only enter tournaments if there's someone there that I want to test myself against. I don't see fighting as a means to an end, but rather an end in itself. I only fight when I have to." 

"That's an interesting philosophy coming from the man considered to be the strongest martial artist in the world," Rhyssa said, finishing off her drink. "So many people see martial arts as just fighting techniques. They don't look beyond the violence to discover what it's really about. Discipline, self-exploration, control; it's more than learning how to fight, it's also about learning how _not_ to fight." She rose from her chair and went into the kitchen for two more beers. Terry couldn't help but to regard her with a new respect. Not too may people really grasped the essence of martial arts.

Several hours later, they were still out on the balcony, a growing pyramid of beer cans on the table between them. Rhyssa was feeling a nice buzz and things were starting to get a bit blurry around the edges, but she was managing to hold up her end of the conversation. She stared down into the bottom of her once again empty mug and said mournfully, "I know I drank it, but I don't remember it."

Terry grinned, also feeling no pain, and tossed back the remainder in his mug. He carefully placed his empty mug on the table, making sure that it actually was on the table before letting go of the handle. He rose to his feet, swaying slightly. "Would you be so kind as to give a poor fellow directions to the john?" he asked, blinking his eyes in an effort to clear his vision.

"Sure," Rhyssa replied. "I'll even give you a personal escort." They were grinning like a couple of idiots as she led the way to the front bathroom, groping along the inside of the door for the light switch. "Ta-dah!" she announced when the light flickered on. Terry snorted and actually laughed. 

"'Scuse me a moment," he slurred, pushing the door shut.

"Sure, no prob," Rhyssa said to the closed door. She turned, making her way into her bedroom and the bathroom it contained. She made use of her own facilities then began to dig into her dresser for the over sized tank top that she slept in. The bed just looked too inviting and all that beer was making her sleepy.

It took a bit of doing but she managed to strip down to her underwear and haul the tank top over her head. She sat down on the edge of the king sized bed and tried to collect her muddled thoughts. A figure in the doorway made her blink. 

"I don't think I should drive," Terry said unsteadily from where he leaned against the doorframe. 

She actually giggled. "Nope. Me either." She looked up at him. "You can stay here." He gave her a charming grin , then proceeded to collapse onto the bed. She blinked. "Terry?" A soft snore was her only answer. "Whatever…" she muttered, managing to yank the blanket out from under him and roll up in it. Her last intelligible thoughts were, _Oh, hell… I forgot to pick all those cans up off of the patio…_ then she too was out cold. 


End file.
